Addressed to Tullus1 What class I am and from where, who my Penates,
you ask all this in the name of our long friendship, Tullus.
If the Perusine tombs of our country are known to you,
funerals in Italy's hard times,
when Roman discord hunted her citizens
(This was especially painful for me, my Etruscan soil—
you allowed my neighbor's limbs to go abandoned,
no earth covers his poor bones)—
neighboring Umbria, below Perusia on the plain
bore me, fertile Umbria, productive land.